


A New Reflection

by SunWeaver



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Magical Surgery, Pain caused by Magic, Trans Character, gender euphoria, light shipping, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26425114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunWeaver/pseuds/SunWeaver
Summary: Fjord’s has gone through a lot of changes and developments, most in the right ways. There is one development though that has been hard to deal with. His own magic can only do so much... But maybe Caleb could help.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	A New Reflection

Nervousness and excitement clashed together like waves crashing against rocky cliffs. Bubbling up sea foam and misting that salty water up into the air. Fjord tries focusing on that imagery of the ocean as he sits and meditates to center himself. And yet, how can he be so patient and calm? Today he was about to get some heavy load off his chest… Literally.

“Fjord,”

His eyes snap open, standing there in the open doorway is Caleb, who had his sleeves rolled up and was tying his hair back into a loose bun.

“It’s go time.”

Fjord eagerly rises to his feet, following in Caleb’s step to the makeshift alchemy lab here in the “Xhorhouse”. While the table which Caleb and Nott worked at was a cluttered mess of vials, stacked books, scattered components, and hastily written notes with arcane symbols Fjord did not understand. The middle of the room had a wooden chair, a stool, and a small table that sat on it an inkwell with a feather quill, a liquor bottle, and a pile of some sort of _dust_.

After they step in, Caleb shuts the door, even turning the lock on it, “Take off your shirt-and any under coverings.”

Fjord watches Caleb in a focused state go over to the mess of a table to open a beaten leather binder, pulling out some papers with a chart drawn on it and written arcana that was hard to read from a distance. For as excited as Fjord was, he was finding it hard to pick up his feet and move any further from where he stood.

Caleb stood there, observing the chart and reading over the notes, muttering them to himself, mindfully memorizing the incantations and procedures on placement of special runes. His eyes did catch up to Fjord’s as he noticed now he had not moved from his spot.

“... Fjord?”

That was enough to jumpstart Fjord’s feet into moving again, quickly striding over to the chair. With his back turned to Caleb, he proceeded to lift up his shirt… Then remembered at that moment to drop his disguise. Where then he was now able to see himself left in his binder. An old thing that was stretched and torn. He couldn’t bring himself to buy a new one. Not even if he disguised as someone different.

He pulled it up over his head, draping it over the shirt on the back of the chair.

Caleb stepped up behind him, using his heel to kick the stool under himself and sit down. He looked up at Fjord’s back, seeing the scars of combat scattered across his shoulder blades and sides.

“... Take your time,” Caleb assures Fjord.

Fjord shudders out a sigh, “I-I’m sorry, this is just… A lot.”

“We have approximately 7 and a half hours until dinner is typically prepared. So feel free to use up as much of that as you wish.”

Fjord gives a breathy laugh, though it helps enough to break up his nerves as he then pulls the chair a little closer to Caleb and sits down in it. Facing Caleb, his cheeks expose just how embarrassed he is: flushed with a deep dark green.

“... Are you certain you are ready?” Caleb inquires, looking sternly into Fjord’s eyes directly.

Fjord swallows down his pride, “I… I’ve been pretty ready for a long time, but I-“

“Here,” Caleb is quick to cut him off by picking up the brown bottle and popping out the cork, “For the nerves.”

Fjord gratefully takes the bottle, taking a large swig.

“... And the pain,” Caleb says as he picks up the quill.

With the flare of cinnamon to go down with the alcohol, Fjord grunts in response, keeping the bottle in hand as he keeps his chest out, “Yup, ready.”

The tip of the quill, welled with ink, is then dipped in the dust, almost instantly causing a spark of light. The quill’s tip shines like a flame, and Caleb scoots closer in as his hand comes up-hovering just over Fjord’s chest.

His eyes look to Fjord, observing his expression.

Fjord adverts his gaze.

And then, Caleb cups a hand under one of the breasts, lifting it as he presses the quill to the skin.

Fjord sharply inhales, as it feels a hot metal rod is prodding against him. He has to fight his reactionary urge to move away and climb out of that chair. Caleb works dutifully, acting on careful precision while trying to keep the flow of ink constant.

Just as the glow dies down, Caleb must pull the pen back, dipping it first in the ink, then into the dust and rekindling that light.

“... On a scale of 1–“

“ **20.** ”

Caleb’s eyes flick up to Fjord’s face, seeing him bite on his whitened knuckles. It gives him a sympathetic pang in his own chest.

“I’m already halfway there with this one.”

Fjord begrudgingly brings the bottle back to his lips, gulping down as much as he could handle in that moment. The alcohol was just barely fuzzing the corners of his vision, but the pain was quick to sober him back up.

* * *

Turning to the side and looking at himself in the mirror, Fjord can’t help himself from touching at his chest, then immediately wincing. Hurt like a bitch still, tender as all hell.

“Ah- _careful_ ,” Caleb chides him.

Fjord huffs, “I know, I know,” turning back to his reflection, “It’s just so…”

Caleb walked up behind Fjord, peering down to see his handiwork branded to Fjord’s chest, wrapping under each pec and tucking to his armpits. Then meets Fjord’s eyes in the reflection, “So..?”

Fjord’s response was that of a one note laugh, “ _Different._ ”

Mindlessly, his hand was still touching his own pec, trying to convince himself that this was indeed a physical change done by their _transmutation_ wizard and not just an illusion that he was so used to seeing and performing on himself to get the same effect. But no, it was _very real_.

The pad of one of his fingers did brush one of the runes, causing him to flinch. As if he didn’t learn from the first time, but it was far too tempting to not want to keep feeling.

“ _Damnit_ ,” Fjord seethed through his teeth, “Ah, s-sorry.”

“We could get Jester or Caduceus to help the healing along,” Caleb suggests.

Fjord shakes his head, “ _S’fine_ , I can handle it.”

He feels those calloused fingers touch his shoulder blade, it was such a feathery light touch that it sent a shiver up Fjord’s spine. His heart flutters as euphoria is starting to catch up with him. The reflection in the mirror has finally started to look a lot more like how he **_wanted_ ** it to look.

“Are you alright with this?” Caleb’s voice is tinted with worry, Fjord’s face is not too discernable on the outside as far as what he’s thinking or _feeling_ for that matter.

With no words, Fjord brought his hand to Caleb’s chin, tilting his head up just so he could lean in and plant a proper kiss on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> HAH, get it?? TRANSmutation???? Ok I’ll leave, thanks for reading.


End file.
